Drive-Ins
by theAkuRokuFaNaTiC
Summary: DaddyBats fluff. When Bruce learns that his ward, young Richard, has never been to a drive-in movie theater, he decides that he has to rectify this situation as quickly as possible. And, of course, it doesn't hurt that they're playing his favorite childhood television program.


**A.N.: May I please say that DaddyBats and little!Richard are the cutest things to ever exist in DC? That, and BarryIris. But I digress. Bruce probably seems a little OOC, but when he interacted with Dick during the basketball scene, he seemed pretty laid-back and chill. Yeah. I don't own Young Justice, or DC, or any of that Gray Ghost stuff (Batman: the Animated Series - love that thing!). So, yes, I hope you guys enjoy! Reviews are loved!**

To say that having an eight year old in the Wayne Manor was a new and completely different reality would be an understatement. Of course, Bruce had adopted Richard with good intentions (and for the possibility of a new sidekick), but the boy had quickly become more than that. Now, he was a full-fledged Wayne. And, had it not been made public that Bruce Wayne was adopting a child, many would just assume that Dick _was _related by blood. Black hair, blue eyes, charisma...everything pointed to Bruce.

But with the fun of having a son came the responsibility. Richard was a handful. He was funny, sure, but he was also energetic. Perhaps too much for his own good. The boy could run a mile without even being tired (perhaps that was a bit of a hyperbole, but it might as well have been true). And he was small, so he was great at hiding from his adoptive father. On top of all that, Dick was a bit of a picky eater. As an acrobat, he had always had organic, healthy foods to keep up both his strength and agility. Bruce did, too, to an extent; but the fact of the matter was, a nearly-thirty year old man was not exactly the best person to go to for a dietary plan.

Luckily, Alfred was always there. Without his helpful butler, Bruce wasn't sure what he would do. If Dick wanted steamed asparagus instead of pizza, Alfred would just smile and comply. Of course, the man wasn't subdued in _any _way - he enjoyed being able to take care of a young boy. Bruce suspected that it was because he and Alfred had been at odds quite a bit while Bruce was younger. Alfred hadn't been as fatherly as the older man felt that he should have been; on a similar note, Bruce didn't _want _that. More than a father, Bruce had required a confidante. Once the two had figured out what the other required, their relationship had been set in stone since then.

But the addition of Richard into the family had opened up so many doors for both men. It was true - Bruce was distant. As Bruce Wayne, he was cordial and welcoming, but he never got very close to anyone. As Batman, he was Batman. Don't get close to anyone, and no one will get hurt. At first, the very thought of having someone so small and so young as Richard live with _the _Batman had frightened the man himself. But Dick took everything in stride. He never got overwhelmed, and if he did, he would tell Bruce such.

For Alfred, it was another chance. He didn't want to change Richard, because the boy was perfectly fine as he was. Alfred just wanted to be able to be there for someone. Someone who needed comfort sometimes. Not always. Richard was very good at bottling up his feelings for long periods of time. But there were nights (as there were with Bruce), that Richard needed a father, and he needed a grandfather, and they needed him just as much.

But yes, Richard was truly something else. He had taken to the aristocrat's life so quickly and so seamlessly that Bruce sometimes forgot that he _wasn't _bred to be rich. Dick picked up on things quickly. His table manners were exquisite for a boy of his age; he smiled when approached, and he could talk to an adult in not a condescending way but a mature way. And it didn't hurt that he was adorable.

Naturally, the boy _did _get bored being inside a mansion all day. And he couldn't go to Barbara's house because her family was on vacation. And it was summer, so not even homework could save him from the recesses of his mind. Bruce took quick notice of this and looked to Alfred for advice.

"Perhaps you two could go for a drive?" the older man suggested, not looking up from the silverware that he was polishing. In unison, Bruce and Dick both gave a loud groan. "Alright, go watch a movie."

Rolling his eyes, Richard responded, "There's nothing on, Alfred. And...our movie collection's...dismal..." Dick didn't mince words, at least.

Alfred sighed and put down the spoon that he was shining. "Let us consult the newspaper." He went to the dining table and picked up the daily _Gotham Gazette_. Flipping through the pages, Alfred stopped to skim the paper. "Let's see here...ah! Yes, Master Bruce, look at this."

Doing as told (because there was definitely _no _arguing with Alfred), Bruce read over the butler's shoulder. It was a list of movie showings, and Bruce might have groaned again, because he _really _did not feel like sitting in a theater. At least not until Dick turned nine. It wasn't that Bruce was scared of the idea of a movie theater, or a playhouse. He just...was kind of scared, actually. He really was. Not for himself, because Bruce Wayne knew how to take care of himself. But did Richard? What if someone once again wanted to take away the most precious and important thing in the world to Bruce Wayne? It wasn't happening, not on his watch.

"You could always go to a drive-in movie," Alfred suggested.

The millionaire sighed heavily. "But Alfred-"

"They're playing 'The Gray Ghost'."

"-We're going."

Dick looked up from the book that he had since gotten to occupy himself with. It was a book that some idiot had written about the Justice League, attempting to point out bogus secrets. Some of which included Superman and Wonder Woman dating after Lois had rejected the Man of Steel (Diana had nearly had a fit at the thought, because they certainly were _not _dating; and if they were, she would _not _be second choice) and the Flash hiding his face behind a cowl because he had been seriously disfigured as a child (Barry had doubled over laughing at that one). Bruce had only gotten the book for a good laugh, and it certainly did its purpose because Batman was _not _secretly brothers with the Penguin. Dick, however, took some of those "secrets" to heart.

"Bruce, is it true that the Green Lantern is actually a sperm donor? Bruce, it also says that Black Canary is really his daughter. Is this true?"

Ignoring Alfred's fits of chuckles, Bruce responded, "No. Not true. She may be young, but he's not that old. End of story. Now, onto more important business." Bruce eyed Dick, watching as the young boy seemed satisfied with the man's answer. "There is a 'Gray Ghost' showing at a drive-in, and we're going to go see it."

"But I hate that show."

"No, you don't. You're just uncultured. A few years, and you'll grow to love it, I'm sure."

Richard shook his head but allowed Bruce to continue. "Have you ever _been _to a drive-in?"

Another shake of the head. But the question had managed to get the boy's attention, at the very least. Taking this opportunity, Bruce said, "A drive-in is sort of live a movie theater. Only you stay in your car during the movie, and it's outside. But you turn your radio on to a frequency so that you can hear the movie. And it's on a really big screen. And sometimes, people go there in their pajamas."

"You can't do that a movie theater," Dick interjected.

"Which is why drive-ins are so much better. Do you want to go?"

There was a long pause as the youngest member of the Wayne family contemplated this answer. He "umm-ed" and "hmm-ed" for a good two minutes before nodding his head slowly. "'Kay."

If he didn't have to keep up a reputation of the Caped Crusader of Gotham that never smiled, Bruce might have made a noise of victory. As it was, he didn't, only goading the boy to go upstairs and change into something more appropriate. Knowing Richard, the kid would be moving around the entire time, and Bruce didn't want him to be uncomfortable. The man looked at Alfred. "Are you coming, too?"

"No, I think I'll continue polishing. But I hope you two enjoy yourselves. I'm going to assist Master Richard, if you don't mind. If I don't," Alfred mumbled, making his way up the staircase, "he mismatch his pajamas, and you _know _how much I hate that."

Bruce smirked and sat down at the dining room table. He had a good five minutes before Richard would come racing down the steps. He certainly had his life cut out for him now. Saving the city was one thing, but raising a young boy was something entirely different. It required a trained eye and physical endurance, more so than chasing down the Scarecrow required. Compared to one of Richard's low-grade fevers, fighting Poison Ivy was a cake walk.

Life certainly had changed drastically in the past few months. Bruce had to be even more careful; he had to reign his temper in. Alfred didn't mind it too badly when Bruce punched a wall in frustration (other than the fact that he damaged architecture), but Bruce didn't want to scare Richard away. The boy had been wary of the millionaire at first, anyhow. One misstep could break all the trust that the two had managed to kindle in such a short amount of time. And frankly, Bruce didn't want that. Not at all.

The sound of feet racing down the staircase brought Bruce out of his thoughts. Richard had on his Batman pajamas (his very first gift when he arrived at the Wayne Manor) and looked positively charming. For an eight year old, he certainly was particularly charming. "I'm ready," Richard announced. "I even brushed my teeth. And I think that loose one is _pretty _close to falling out, right, Alfred? You said so."

"I did. I also said that when you want to pull it, don't ask me. And don't do it on my carpet. Have Master Bruce assist you, or perhaps Miss Barbara, and do it in the bathroom. That's all I ask."

"Ooh! One time, I had another loose tooth, so I went to Barbara's house, and she tied a string to my tooth, and she tied the other end to a doorknob. And then, she had me walk 'til the string was tight, and then she closed the door!"

Bruce nearly paled. For some odd reason, _this _bothered him. "What happened?"

"Oh. She accidentally tied some of the string onto my lip, too, so it pulled my lip, and some of the skin came off, and-"

"Okay!" Alfred and Bruce said together. Neither wanted to talk about the nature of a clingy deciduous tooth, especially when it came to Richard's.

"You ready, Dick? The movie's going to start in thirty minutes, and I bet if we don't start on the road any sooner, we're going to have to park in the back, and we won't be able to see the movie _at all_."

At that, Richard ran toward the door, but he stopped. Running back to the older men, he gave Alfred a quick hug. "Bye, Alfred! Love you! Have fun shining stuff!"

"I will, Master Richard. Have fun."

Bruce too said his goodbyes to Alfred then followed his ward to the door. They both got into Bruce's car (that ugly yellow monstrosity), and Bruce, the Batman, the man who could confront the Joker while the madman held a knife pointed towards the superhero, was pretty excited. Richard was, too, if his drumming of fingers on the armrest was any indication. "Buckle up, Dick."

The ride to the drive-in was actually quite short, which was good, because Dick could hardly contain himself. "I get to stay up _way _past my bedtime, huh, Bruce?"

"Way past," Bruce agreed. It was only two hours or so, and he knew that Dick didn't need the extra sleep; and if he did, Bruce had no qualms about letting the boy take a nap the next day.

Bruce pulled the car up to the ticket stand, paying the gray-haired woman that was running the booth. She had yellow-ish teeth and wore too much make-up, but she was very nice and told Bruce that this was one of her favorite shows.

"Mine, too."

He didn't sit and chat with her long enough to recognize that he was _the _Bruce Wayne that practically ran Gotham City, but he figured that even if he had, she wouldn't have noticed. Despite his thoughts and worries, the lot wasn't crowded in the slightest. In fact, it was a little disheartening. There were a few cars dotted across the field, but nothing special. This wasn't some big blockbuster; it was merely an outdated program that was being viewed by a few old folks trying to recollect any bit of their youth that they could. And Richard. A few old folks and Richard.

"You said we weren't going to get a good spot!" Dick said, toying with the sleeve of his pajamas.

"I didn't think we would," Bruce replied. He tuned in his radio to the correct station, relaxing in his seat. Of course, he glanced over at the ever-moving Richard next to him. "Is there a malfunction?"

"I can't see," Richard said in a small voice. The poor kid never liked pointing out how small he was; it had gotten him quite a bit of teasing at school, and Richard hated any sort of disadvantage. Being petite was great for an acrobat, but not so great for a kid trying to get by. Bruce, naturally, felt bad; in school, he had always been lucky to be taller and popular and so charismatic that girls had swooned since pre-school. And he hadn't always been so kind to the kids that weren't as tall.

Gently smiling, Bruce unbuckled his seat-belt, pausing as Richard did the same. It was a copy-cat instinct of Dick's. If Bruce did it, he did, too. After that, Bruce reached over and picked Richard up, placing him on his lap. It wasn't a very tight fit, not when Bruce pulled his seat back just a bit. Richard was awfully skinny; he was barely even there.

"Thanks!" Dick said, brightening up tremendously. The two waited for their show to begin, both anxious for something different. Bruce needed to know that this show was still as great as when he was younger. Dick wanted to know what it was like to be at a drive-in with his father. When the film began, they both looked at each other and grinned.

The drive-in played four episodes, a mini-arc. Bruce had remembered the first time that he had seen it, how he had sat on the edge of his seat while his father merely sat beside him, smiling at his son's enthusiasm. Bruce had remembered, like always, how he had fallen asleep just before the end of it, and how he could vaguely remember being carried to bed by his father, Alfred close by. Those were some of the best memories that Bruce had ever been fortunate enough to get; and he wanted, just for a brief moment, to feel like he was eight again.

It was hard to feel eight again when there was an _actual _eight year old on his lap that was constantly moving and "ah-ing" at every fight scene. Bruce wasn't annoyed, not in the slightest, because he was inwardly amazed, too. But he realized that he felt like his father must have. Content, because his most treasured possession was happier than he had ever been, just content watching a black-and-white television program.

For the next three episodes, Bruce had shaken off the notion, deciding that he was so sentimental only because he was reliving a childhood experience. It wasn't until he felt a little head rest against his chest, indicating that Dick had finally nodded off, _just _before the Gray Ghost caught the criminal, that he felt parenthood practically punched him in the face. Bruce smiled, gently running his fingers through Dick's soft black hair.

When the episode ended, Bruce carefully placed Dick back into the passenger's seat, helping the boy sit up so that he could re-adjust his seat-belt. He started the car, giving a silent thank-you to Simon Trent for portraying his most favorite character, and began to drive. He got home in only a few minutes, picking the sleeping boy up and out of the car. Walking inside, he greeted Alfred, who was absentmindedly reading the newspaper. The butler looked at Bruce, then at Richard, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth. "Tuckered the poor boy out, did you, Master Bruce?"

"He loved it, so you can save it," Bruce retorted quietly, starting up the stairs. "Alfred," he said, pausing to look at the man that _he _considered to be his father (even if he'd never tell the older man directly).

"Yes?"

"It was like I was eight again. Only, I was my father, and Richard was me. How could I have been that adorable?"

The butler smiled again, chuckling as he put away the newspaper and straightening his jacket. "I've always liked calling it the 'Reverse-Ugly-Duckling' Syndrome. You were so cute, and now you're not." Of course, Bruce knew that Alfred was just joking, but it was still surprising coming from such a sophisticated gentleman.

"I see. But I have a strong feeling that that won't happen to him, know what I mean?"

Alfred didn't say anything in response, only nodding and pushing Bruce back up the stairs. It didn't take much convincing; Dick was out like a light, and Bruce too was pretty tired. He was glad that he had chosen to neglect patrol for the night (he hoped that the villains could have the decency to take the night off just _once_); family meant more than work, after all.

Once Dick was safely in his bed, tucked in, and snuggled up with his trusty stuffed rabbit (her name was Lopsy - she was a gift from his late mother), Bruce sighed contentedly and made his way back down the stairs to say goodnight to Alfred. The old man, as always, was alert and busying himself with something. This time, he was putting away a few of Richard's toys and books.

"Did you have a nice time?" Alfred asked, not looking up.

"It was perfect."


End file.
